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Heads Will Roll
I got out of bed to answer the phone. I had to get
up anyway, because it was time to take my daughter,
Molly, to school. She was having breakfast in the
kitchen with our house mate Linda and her son,
Tyler. Or so I thought. "Hello Dad," said the early
morning caller. "Can I go to Tyler's school
today?"
"No, Molly," I replied, figuring her call came
from Linda's phone. "You have to go to your own
school. And we have to leave soon, because I have
an appointment with client right after I drop you
off. When you're done with breakfast come get your
shoes on." I knew she didn't have her shoes on
because her shoes have never been on any morning
this year until the last minute before we leave the
house.
"Umm, Dad," she stammered, "I'm actually already
at Tyler's school."
"WHAT!" I demanded. At first I couldn't decide
if I should be more mad at my daughter or at Linda
for taking Molly somewhere without checking with
me. I quickly determined that Linda, the adult, was
the more culpable. What could she have been
thinking!
"Why did Linda take you to Tyler's school?" I
implored, not imagining any excuse that could get
her off the hook. Boy was I going to give Linda a
stern message once I got her on the phone.
"Linda didn't know," Molly explained. "I hid in
the back seat and Tyler put a blanket over me."
"You stowed away?" I asked, understanding now
what had happened. Several times recently I have
caught her trying to be a stowaway in a friend's
car when I pick her up from school. We laugh after
I pretend to be fooled, and then I howl at her to
get in the right car. So this time she finally
succeeded.
I talk with Linda. She's late for a meeting and
can't bring Molly home. But Molly can stay at the
school until I arrive. The problem is that Tyler's
school is across town and I am never going to get
there, then back to Molly's school, and then to my
office, in time to meet my client. I try to call my
client to say I'll be late, but there is no answer.
He must be the last person in Santa Cruz that still
doesn't have an answering machine. I throw on my
clothes and jump in the car. I've had no breakfast,
and I notice in the rear view mirror backing out of
my driveway, I didn't shave. By a quick calculation
I make based on the time shown on my car clock, I
will arrive at my office a half hour late. The
client will probably be gone. I feel sure he will
think me either wildly incompetent or grossly
disrespectful. He will have proof that I really
have no business trying to be a professional. How I
am going to explain that I, a family therapist,
can't even get my daughter to the right school in
the morning. I shake my head. "This is silly," I
tell myself, "even therapists get to screw up
sometimes." I shift from anxiety back to being
mad.
"If I were King," I tell the windshield, "Heads
would roll for his." I pick Molly up and she is
delighted to see me. With her in my arms I explain
that her little prank will make me half an hour
late for a client. She knows how I feel about this
and she is immediately apologetic.
"I'm sorry Daddy. I didn't know you had a
client."
She's only six years old. She didn't know
Tyler's school was so far. Tyler's in class. He
didn't know this would cause a problem. Linda
didn't even know Molly was in her car. It dawns on
me that I am not a king. No heads are going to
roll. Everyone already knows that they should never
do this again. The innocence of children leaves me
with no recourse for my anger. I kiss Molly on the
forehead and drop her off at her school. I'm the
one who will pay for her mistake. I guess that is
part of being a father, paying for your children's
mistakes.
By the time I got to my office, my client had
gone. The note on the door said, "Waited twenty
minutes. Where are you? Call me." My apology was
accepted and we rescheduled the appointment for the
following week. In the end, Molly's stowaway caper
cost me just one hour of client fees and a frantic
hour in morning traffic. I suspect there will be
more mistakes in the future, with higher price
tags
© 2007, Tim
Hartnett
Other Father Issues,
Books
* * *
Your children need your presence more than your
presents. - Jesse Jackson
Tim
Hartnett, Ph.D. is a licensed Marriage and Family
Therapist in private practice in Santa Cruz, CA. He
specializes in Individual Counseling, Couples
Therapy, and Divorce Mediation. He can be reached
at 831.464.2922 or through his website:
www.TimHartnett.com
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